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Epilogue: Seven years later
Merlin gave the pot hanging over the crackling fire a final stir. He lifted the ladle, blew on the stew, and took a sip. Not bad, considering the ingredients they had with them when they arrived. He reached up and broke off a branch of dried thyme from one of the many bushels of herbs hanging from the rafters of the old cottage and sprinkled some in the cauldron, humming in satisfaction as he took a final taste.
He dusted his hands and pushed himself to his feet, knees cracking in protest as he put weight on his sore legs.
They had walked twenty miles through the forests of outer Camelot today, the path rocky and soft with the new rains of spring. Their nomadic life was something he had long since gotten used to, and so were the pains after a particularly long day. He barely registered the sore muscles as he walked to the cottage door, the packed earth floor cold against his bare feet.
A spring breeze wafted into the cottage, bringing with it the fresh smell of the wild privet bushes that had overtaken the outside of the cottage. Above the front door was a bell, an old cast iron thing that hung from the wall on the outside of the house, caked in cobwebs and dust. Merlin went to ring it but hesitated.
The three of them had found this meadow just as the sun was starting to set in the sky, emerging from the forest to find the empty shell of an abandoned cottage sitting in a glade blanketed in wildflowers. It was a stroke of luck, finding a place to shelter their little group from what had become nightly rainstorms. Their canvas sheet worked well enough, but it was nice to have a place to settle every once in a while. Tired from their travels, they had dropped their packs at the door and taken off their damp shoes to dry next to a small fire they built with the few pieces of old wood they found in the grate.
Merlin had unloaded the bags to start dinner while Arthur took their two-year-old daughter, Mara, outside to play.
Now dusk had settled over the clearing, the trees silhouetted against a fading pink sky. Arthur sat cross-legged in the center of the clearing, encouraging Mara as she tottered through the grass, chasing after a small white butterfly that fluttered lazily through the flowers. She tried to grab it with her small, pudgy hand and missed entirely, losing her balance and falling on her stomach with a resolute little oof .
Merlin folded his arms and leaned against the door frame as he watched Arthur scoop Mara up and toss her in the air, her dark cloud of hair haloed in the golden sunlight filtering through the trees. Arthur caught her and blew on her stomach. Merlin smiled softly as her laughter echoed through the clearing.
If someone had told him two years ago that he would be caring for a toddler, he would have thought they were crazy. But one day, while on the road from one faraway village to the next, Arthur and Merlin stumbled across a baby screaming her little lungs out in the wreckage of a burnt-out carriage on the side of the road. Taking her under their wings had been a hard choice, but there wasn’t a day since then that he had regretted it. So much had changed since she came into their lives, but it was moments like these, with her laughter ringing in the air, that made all the tantrums, tears, and sleepless nights worth it.
Much to Mara's delight, Arthur tossed her in the air again and then settled her on his lap. Merlin watched them for a while, Arthur pointing at different things around the field and Mara babbling a reply back. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he got the general impression it was something to do with colors.
Eventually, in a great act of will, Merlin reached up and rang the bell, the deafening clang sending a cloud of birds into the sky.
“Dinner!”
Arthur whooped and Mara cheered as he jumped to his feet, scooping her off the ground and setting her on his shoulders as he walked towards the house.
“Thank heavens, I'm starving!”
“You better be,” Merlin said, pushing himself off the door frame as the pair joined him. He reached up to tickle the soul of Mara’s foot. “I can't eat a whole pot of stew all by myself, can I.”
She kicked her feet wildly, Arthur holding her small hands to keep her steady on his shoulders, “Stop!”
Merlin laughed as Arthur ducked inside and he followed, closing the old wooden door behind them.
A soft breeze blew through the open window and they lit an oil lamp as night settled over the woods. The trio ate cross-legged on the floor, Mara on Merlin's lap as she tried to navigate her bowl of stew. While she thankfully wasn't a picky eater, she was, however, a mess.
They finished quickly. Mara balanced on his hip, lantern in his other hand, Merlin trudged out to the water pump. The storm clouds were rolling in from the west, blotting out the stars with their eerie bruised purple and blues. The air was muffled, charged with a heaviness that promised thunder. Merlin washed Mara’s hands and face, his daughter wincing and squirming under the cold water. Once he finished cleaning the stew out from between her little fingers, he set their bowls from dinner on the stone path leading to the cottage and went inside. The rain would clean them just as well as he could.
While they were gone, Arthur had added more logs to the now roaring fire, the warmth quickly washing away the lingering chill from the night air. Arthur got Mara ready for bed as Merlin pulled blankets out of their packs and neatly laid out where they were going to sleep for the night.
As Arthur told her a bedtime story, Merlin started a pot of tea over the fire and began to organize their pacts for the next day. Distant thunder echoed outside.
Once the water in the pot was boiling, he ladled it into a flask and turned to find Mara clinging to her stuffed rabbit, scowling as she knelt on top of her blanket. Merlin sighed internally.
“It’s getting late darling. You need to get under your blankets.”
Arthur was kneeling next to Mara’s bed, trying to reason with the toddler, but, like most nights, it was of little use.
Her scowl deepened and she hugged her rabbit tighter, “No!”
“Please,” he begged.
She gave a haughty little sniff but otherwise didn’t move. Merlin tried his best not to laugh at her sass (he learned from experience that it only encouraged her), but Arthur shot him a betrayed look anyway.
“Aren't you tired?”
“Story!” She whined.
“You already got a story..”
“Another.”
Arthur shook his head. “One is enough for tonight. It's time to go to bed now”
“No sleep!” She stood up this time, her rabbit dangling limply from one hand.
Arthur's annoyance was palpable. “Well then, if you get tired while we're walking tomorrow, don't come complaining to me,” he said, matching her haughty look as he turned away and folded his arms.
Mara stomped her foot angrily, looking on the verge of tears.
Arthur ignored her and the little demon changed tactics. Her feet patted on the dirt floor as she ran over to Arthur and jumped into his lap, wrapping her small arms around him.
Mara looked up into Arthur's face with big brown eyes, “Please?”
“I said no.”
Her lip wobbled.
He could see Arthur’s resolve weakening almost immediately. He looked over at Merlin, silently begging for help. Merlin grinned and took a sip of tea.
She squeezed him tighter and pressed her face into his shirt, “Pleaseee?”
It was honestly embarrassing how quickly he crumbled.
“Ok, Ok.” Arthur conceded, almost sounding stern but not quite managing it, “I'll tell you another story, only if you get under your blankets and promise me that afterwards you’ll fall asleep.”
She let out a delighted squeal and ran as fast as she could back to her bedding, diving under her blankets and pulling it up to her chin.
‘Weak.’ Merlin mouthed over the rim of his cup.
Arthur huffed in annoyance. “Shut up,” he muttered as he scooted forward, kneeling next to Mara.
“Alright, you ready?”
She nodded eagerly.
He cleared his throat, “ In a distant land long ago, lived a fairy- ”
“No.” she interrupted, “The prince story!”
Arthur sighed, and they exchanged an exhausted glance. Both had known this was coming. After all, It was quickly becoming a nightly tradition. “I’ve told you that one a thousand times already. Aren't you sick of hearing it?”
“No.” She said adamantly, crossing her arms.
It wasn’t really much of a standoff. Having the same argument every night had effectively worn him down. Arthur- tired and resigned- gave up almost instantly.
“Fine, if that's what is going to put you to sleep,” he said, rubbing his face in exhaustion.
She kicked her small feet under her blanket in excitement and then settled down
Arthur sat up and cleared his throat.
“In a land not too far from here- about a two-day journey by horse ride- is a castle, with sandstone walls and giant towers. In that castle there once lived a King...”
He plunged into the story of the cruel king who hated magic, and his son, who, under the guidance of his father, grew into an arrogant and selfish prince.
When the sorcerer arrived in Camelot- his very footsteps on the stones of the old city an act of treason, Mara pointed at Merlin. “Dhat’s you!”
Merlin laughed and held a finger to his lips, “Shh, Don't tell him, you'll spoil it.”
She giggled and he winked.
The sorcerer and the prince met, and Arthur described how they grew from bitter enemies to Allies in battle, to great friends. With every monster, witch, and beast they faced side by side they became closer, and ever so slowly, started to fall in love.
But the Prince was of age and the King set out to get his son wed to a powerful noblewoman.
Arthur explained how soon, suitors came from every corner of the land, some young, some old, some rich, some powerful, and some as poor as dirt, but in the midst of the fight for the prince's hand in marriage, he had only eyes for the sorcerer. Their friendship turned into a secret romance (at which Mara said ‘eww’ rather dramatically).
At one point rain started to fall outside and Merlin pulled closed the old wooden shutters.
It didn’t matter that she had heard the story a million times, Mara still got upset when the King announced that the prince was going to marry a princess from a distant kingdom.
When, at the wedding feast, the Prince stood up in front of the whole kingdom and asked the Sorcerer to run away with him, Mara sleepily cheered and clapped.
“And the Prince and the Sorcerer ran into the forest surrounding the castle and disappeared from Camelot,” Arthur said at last, voice quiet as Mara seemed finally to be drifting off. “The king did everything he could to track them down and have them killed for their insolence, but using the Sorcerer's magic and the Prince's skill with a sword, the pair were never found. Some say the king still searches the forests of Camelot to this day, hoping one day to get his revenge.”
Eyes closed, Mara mumbled something happily.
“Years later, the couple found a little baby left on the side of the road, crying her little lungs out,” Arthur said with a smile in his voice, gently smoothing back her hair, “And, when they adopted her, their crazy adventurous life was finally complete.
The End...”
Some nights Mara would pop up after the story was done and ask for round three, but tonight they were lucky. Mara was curled up in her blankets and as he listened closely, Merlin could just hear her faint little snores.
The rain still pounded on the roof as Arthur put a last log on the fire and Merlin set their packs by the door. It had been years since they had heard news of a search party nearby, but being ready to move at any moment was a habit neither of them was willing to break.
They folded and straightened their blankets on the floor and settled in for the night, laying in comfortable silence as they listened to the patter of rain on the roof. The packed dirt floor of the house wasn’t as comfortable as the soft grass or the leaf-swept forest floor that they were used to, but the cottage's dry warmth made up for it. Thunder rumbled through the bones of the old cottage, the wooden rafters creaking with the force.
“Do you ever miss it?” Merlin asked finally, nudging Arthur's leg. “Your old life.The throne and the power.”
Arthur rested his head on his shoulder and took a moment to think, “Sometimes. That kind of adoration and luxury isn’t something that’s easy to forget.”
“Would you go back, if you ever had the chance?”
Merlin knew the answer of course, he had asked him dozens of times since they had run into the forest so many years ago, but he still liked to hear the answer. It reminded him that they had chosen each other and that this life wasn't just some stroke of luck.
Arthur smiled, “If I was offered the world and it meant giving up this life, this family.” his eyes drifted to their daughter, snuggled in her blanket, sleeping soundly at their feet. “Then it would be too high a price to pay.”
Merlin laughed softly and moved closer into his husband's side. Arthur turned his face into his shoulder and closed his eyes, breath deepening as he started to slowly drift off to sleep. Merlin lay there for a while, listening to the soft drum of the rain as he enjoyed the warmth of Arthur beside him.
They would be leaving soon- picking up their bags and tying up their boots as they headed on to their next adventure. For their little family, home wasn't a place, not a destination or a long-lost dream, but something the three of them carried with them on their backs through the trees and the mountains and the towns they came across. But it was nice, Merlin thought as he watched the dying embers of the fire cast flickering shadows over the ceiling, to let home fill up the place.
Maybe they could stay a while, settle into the old forgotten cottage. Three pairs of boots, one seven sizes smaller than the others, stacked side by side next to the door. The three of them walking in on a snowy afternoon to find a bubbling pot of soup over the hearth and a warm place by the fire.
But in the end, it wouldn't be forever. Because there were other cottages, and forests and fields just waiting to be found and filled with laughter, and memories. There was a whole world for them to see. So tomorrow they would pick up home, alongside their packs, and carry it with them as they walked on to their next adventure.